It was Friday. I took a deep breath and basked in that fact before realizing that it was summer and so Friday wasn’t the end of the school week. Still, it was summer, and I felt like anything could happen.
So far, just about anything had happened. In three days, I had gone to see my uncle, halfway across the country, found out that I’d be working most of the summer, met Kirandra, her mom, Shira, Culter and Steve, gone to see TOGAC, and had taken tons of pictures. I ate some cereal, a little overwhelmed by it all.
Today was sweeping the driveway, mopping the floors, and vacuuming. It was easy and boring, but hard to mess up. It gave me some time to think and I started wondering what would happen next. Would Kirandra come by today? How about Culter? Why did I have to wait for them, anyways? I needed a bike, or a moped, or something. I wanted to see more of Tarrant and I needed to get the film in my camera developed, too.
As I mopped the hall, I realized that part of the reason I came here had turned out completely opposite of what I had expected. I had thought of Uncle Kevin’s as a way to give my parents the time that they needed, but also as a place to get away from it all. But I wasn’t just relaxing all by myself; I was slowly becoming a part of something else, even if it was just for a little while. That seemed strange — being part of something that was temporary? I shook my head and focused back on the vacuuming.
* * * * *
I was just finishing up dusting when three quick knocks came from the front door. I didn’t know much about dusting and it must have shown. When I opened the door, Kirandra was holding a strange adjustable disc and staring at me with curious eyes.
“What happened?” she asked.
I looked down at the dust blotches on my clothes and colored. “Uhm. Well nothing much. I’ve been dusting.”
“Oh. I think you need special clothes for that.”
I laughed. “I don’t think an apron is my style.” On a sudden impulse, I added, “Maybe a cowboy hat would work better.”
She grinned and then reached out and tapped me on the arm. A small cloud of dust escaped into the air.
“Guess I need to get cleaned up. You want to come in?”
She nodded and took a look around the kitchen with the piles of paper everywhere as I went upstairs to do something about my clothes. When I came back down, she said, “Your uncle doesn’t cook much does he?”
I sighed. “What gave it away?”
“The refrigerator.” She pointed to all the magnets from all the pizza, fast food, delivery, and drive-thru restaurants in town. I guess that would do it, wouldn’t it?
“I haven’t had ordinary food since I got here,” I admitted. “It’s not bad, don’t get me wrong, but…” I let the sentence trail off, shrugging.
Kirandra said, “Maybe you can come for dinner.” I was speechless for a moment, caught between surprise and that glowing feeling that I had felt before. She offered, “Mom always makes extra when Uncle Thomas is in town.”
I found my voice. “Sounds great. Let me leave a note.”
The rumble of a diesel engine came in through the front door, announcing the fact that Uncle Kevin had arrived. I told him of my plans for the evening when he walked in. He told me that I couldn’t go.
“Why not?” I asked, more surprised than defiant.
Uncle Kevin looked from me to Kirandra. “Could you excuse us a minute?”
She nodded and went to wait outside on the porch. “I thought mom said I should be eating healthier,” I reminded him.
He scratched his stubble. “Ok, but after this we need to talk. Be back by eleven.”
“Ok,” I said and joined Kirandra on her way home.
We walked in silence for what felt like an eternity. It seemed like we both felt the same kind of frustration with adults, but didn’t know how to say it. The fading sun glinted off what she was carrying, and so I asked her about it.
“It’s an astrolabe,” she said. “Brass and steel. Made in Cordoba, Spain, in sixteen ninety-five. Sailors used it to measure the position of stars and planets to help them figure out their location at sea.”
“How does it work?” I asked.
She held it up to her eye in one fluid motion, adjusted the outside circle, which had markings along the side.
“Wow,” I said. “Looks like you practiced.”
“I did,” she said proudly. She added quietly, “It’s embarrassing when customers ask you about antiques and you don’t know anything about them.”
I hadn’t thought about that before. It struck me again how strange it was that her parents trusted her to carry these things home.
“I always thought antiques were too expensive to just carry around like this,” I said.
“If you don’t want to ride in the car, you have to carry something home and help with the bookkeeping,” she explained, quoting her mom. “It gets pretty crowded in the van and sometimes I like being alone.” She gave me a curious half-smile and quickly turned away.
I didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but back home, Brian had told me the same kind of thing. Sometimes you just wanted to get away. In another minute or so, we were at her house.
“I’m home! Chris came!” she announced, opening the unlocked front door.
Inside, the house looked to be about the same age as my uncle’s house. The color of light brown wood seemed to be everywhere, from the floors to the stairs to the doors, making the house seem natural, like it had all been carved from one giant block of wood. To our right, a staircase lead up to the second floor. I saw a tall figure near the top descend a few stairs, hesitate, and then retrace its steps. I was about to ask Kirandra who that was when we reached the kitchen.
The kitchen was crazily busy. Kirandra’s mom seemed to be doing ten things at once, from checking the temperature of the chicken to pulling rolls out of the oven, to stirring a vegetable medley, to dispatching Shy. Shy ran around, a blur of blonde hair, doing whatever her mom needed done. Most of those things didn’t involve the food directly, I noticed. Drawers were open, revealing all kinds of cutlery as well as several cabinet doors, half-hiding bowls and plates. Shy was busy running back and forth from the dining room just to the right and the kitchen, setting the table.
After we all said hello, Shy giggling, and Kirandra frowning at her, Kirandra asked, “Where’s Uncle Thomas?” she asked.
“Out on the back porch, star gazing,” replied her mom.
“Boring!” added Shy.
“Ok. I’ll be right back,” she told me, and opened a door at the far end of the room and made her way downstairs.
Watching all the cooking activity made me feel a bit out of place, so I offered to help. “No, don’t be silly,” her mom told me. “You’re a guest. Now regular guests…” she said, smiling at me. I laughed, kind of nervously.
It didn’t take long for Kirandra and her dad to finish business in the basement. In a minute or two, they were upstairs and helped finish up the preparations for dinner.
“There,” said Kirandra’s mom, turning off the oven and shutting the microwave door with a resounding bam-click. Kirandra, her dad, and Shy applauded and she bowed. I could see where Shy got it from, I thought. “Shy, do the honors, please.” Shy ran to the far end of the dining room, where tall double-doors set with tall wood-latticed windows opened on to the back porch. She opened one and pulled Uncle Thomas inside. Then she ran out of the kitchen and upstairs.
Uncle Thomas was a large man who looked about the size of a football player, although he was just big, not muscular. He seemed vaguely Italian with a black curly hair and a ready grin. He wore a vest that had no hope of reaching across his stomach, over a purple-velvet shirt. His dark eyes twinkled and I thought that he was probably one of those guys who could play Santa Claus and the kids would love him.
At first I thought that he might hug me and I didn’t know if I could survive a bear hug, but he just shook my hand. Shy got back and following her was a tall teenage guy who wore glasses and wore a dour expression on his face. I didn’t get the feeling that he was unhappy to see me, just that he was usually that way.
“Lew, Kirandra’s friend Chris is here for supper,” said Kirandra’s mom. Lew looked over at me and muttered a “hi”. “Hi,” I said back, and that was the end of the conversation. Kirandra’s mom and dad looked at each other and then we all sat down, said the blessing, and began eating.
Dinner was kind of like eating in the school cafeteria with my friends, not the quiet and serious dinners I had with my family. I really didn’t know what to expect, but when I looked back on it later, it really only made sense. Everyone had table manners but that didn’t stop them from teasing each other or telling jokes. You didn’t chew with your mouth open, but it was OK to stick your tongue out at someone. I just went with the flow and tried not to stick out too much.
I had to answer a lot of questions about myself, which I figured was coming, so I was ready for that. The rest of the conversations ranged all over the map from how the family business was doing, to where Uncle Thomas had been, to who was going to clean up the garage tomorrow.
Out of the blue, Shy announced in a sing-songy tone, “I know what’s in the satchel.”
Uncle Thomas was in the middle of lifting a forkful of mashed potatoes to his mouth. Shy crossed her arms and looked at him defiantly. He smiled and kept eating.
“I know what’s inside,” she said, “and why he’s never shown anyone.”
“Really?” asked Uncle Thomas, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “In that case, you should tell. I’m afraid that the jig is up.” He grinned ear to ear.
Shy took a deep breath and announced, “Nasty mags!”
It was like she had sucked every sound out of the room with those words. Every eye was on her and she swelled up with pride.
Lew put down his fork and said, “What do you mean by ‘nasty mags’?”
Shy stared at him angrily. “You know what I mean!” Lew looked over at Kirandra.
Kirandra added, “No, we don’t. Nasty like squished frogs?”
“Yes!” replied Shira.
“Nasty like toilet bowls?” asked Lew.
“Yes!”
“Nasty like your room?” asked her mom.
“Yes! I mean — hey!”
Everyone broke out in laughter and Shy turned red-faced in an instant. “You’re so mean!” she said, to no-one in particular.
Dinner finished up and I made sure to compliment her mom on the cooking. I did enjoy it and it was the polite thing to do, I thought. Everyone helped clean off the table except for her mom, so she didn’t have to worry about putting anything away. I had talked about photography a little bit and Kirandra said that could come in handy in their business. I agreed, thinking that they could set up a web site or advertise on line if they wanted to.
Then her dad mentioned that she had some chores to finish up around the house. She didn’t argue but agreed a little reluctantly.
On my way home, I did a lot of thinking. Their home life was definitely more than I was used to, with six people talking and all the different personalities. They did seem a little weird, with art being everywhere, but it was a kind of weird I liked. I guess it made them stand out a bit. Kirandra and I hadn’t talked much besides at dinner, but I did say that I’d stop by tomorrow. Did I even have tomorrow off? Wouldn’t that be funny, I thought wryly, if I didn’t?
There weren’t too many streetlights along the sidewalk back to Uncle Kevin’s house, and so the darkness up above and the stars shone through. Being in a strange town wasn’t so different from being a sailor out of sight of land, I thought. I lifted my hands to the sky and made a circle like the astrolabe that Kirandra carried home. Pretending to adjust it a bit, I brought the Big Dipper into focus.
* * * * *
The next morning Uncle Kevin whipped up breakfast, which was a change for the better. It turned out that he could actually cook, at least if cooking bacon, eggs, and toast was real cooking. He assured me that it counted; I had my doubts.
I asked him about it and he said, “When I talked to your mom, she was concerned that you weren’t eating right.”
I nodded. “That sounds like my mom.”
“She was nicer than that, but that was the point. She also thought that I let you run wild.” He sat down and buttered his toast.
“Really?”
“I told her that I didn’t, but when she asked about curfews, I really didn’t have an answer. So I thought we should work out the details.”
“Fair enough,” I said, hoping that things wouldn’t become too draconian. I didn’t think they would, but I didn’t know what his limits were, nor what buttons of his my mom could push. She could be sneaky when she wanted to be.
“Ok, you get Saturday and Sunday off, and just work down the list at an easy pace. There’s no deadlines or anything like that. If you want to take half a day, let me know first.”
“Sounds good,” I said between mouthfuls of eggs.
“You can go anywhere in town; outside of town, ask first.”
“Ok.”
“Curfew is midnight. And oh yeah, church on Sundays.”
I had forgotten about that last one. It was something that I did whenever I visited, but I never really thought about it until I was there. Summer days, sunlight streaming in through the windows, and an old-fashioned church with a balcony overlooking the pews below popped into my mind. I didn’t remember too much about what was said, but I did remember the fancy clothes and a sense of belonging. My family went to church a few times a year and it was like a ritual more than something emotional.
“Ok, sounds fine,” I said. I had come out pretty good, with no major roadblocks — wait. How was I going to get around? Kirandra’s house wasn’t too far, but it was still a few minutes away just walking.
I asked him about that and he said that the neighbors across the street, the Randalls, probably had an old one that I could use. I hoped that it wasn’t pink.
The rest of the morning I just lazed around and watched cartoons. Kirandra said to drop by after lunch. She said that her and Cutler usually hung out and he’d probably stop by sooner or later. It still caught me off guard when I was half-way there, Cutler came roaring by on his bike.
He slammed on the brakes and spun the a quarter circle so that it blocked my path. He looked relieved, rather than assured. “Whoa, it worked this time! Hey Chris. Where are you going?”
He wore the same cap he did the other day, but today had on a black t-shirt divided into four quadrants, each showing a line or two of code. Written above them all were words in white — “The World’s Shortest Program”. Glancing at one of the quadrants which read, “10: Goto 10″, I knew it was the truth.
“I’m going to the evil almost-goth girl’s house,” I said with a grin.
He pretended to be shocked, but then furrowed his brow. “It’s too late, then. She has you in her clutches!”
“Yes,” I said. “This is my last week on earth, I’m sure of it.”
Cutler laughed and we talked about computers until we got to Kirandra’s house. She came out and we moved to under a large tree that gave a lot of shade.
I found out that no-one had their learner’s permit yet, so we had to use bikes or walk. Having someone else take us was too much of a pain and could be embarrassing besides. Just then, we heard two car doors slam, one right after the other.
“Are your folks going somewhere?” asked Cutler, looking at Kirandra.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Kirandra. “Maybe it was the next house over.”
We resumed talking and Cutler interrupted again. “Hey Kira, your van is moving.”
We looked over. The van rolled back a few feet and then stopped. Kirandra shrugged. “Maybe my dad is moving the van. He does that sometimes.”
I knew my folks always started the car when they moved it, but her driveway did have a slight incline, so maybe they didn’t need to.
We had only barely started talking when Cutler interrupted for the third time. “Kira, your van is moving down the street.”
The look in her eyes was something between, “Why are you obsessed with my van?” and “Uh oh”. We all turned to look and it was true. What’s worse was that it looked like no-one was driving it.
Kirandra said, “This is bad.” Then in a louder voice, she yelled out, “Shy!” We all took off after the van as it picked up speed rolling down the street. One of the side doors opened and a short girl in brown pigtails rolled out, catching her breath.
“Merry?” asked Kirandra. “Are you ok?” The little girl was shaking her head “yes”, then “no” and then kept saying, “It was going too fast,” over and over. Kirandra sat her down on the curb. Cutler and I took back off after the van. We had just about reached it when it reached a streetlamp. A low “thud” followed by an “Ow!” reached our ears when Kirandra caught back up to us. Not knowing what else to do, I examined the van where it hit the streetlamp. The front bumper was dented pretty badly.
Kirandra opened the driver’s side door and found a confused Shy looking back at her. “It doesn’t work the same,” she said. “It’s all Merry’s fault! When she left, I couldn’t do the brakes anymore!” Kirandra pulled her sister out of the van, taking her arm in a death grip.
“You’re not hurt?” she asked Shy. Shy shook her head.
“It’s not bad,” I said. “Just the front bumper.” Everyone looked relieved.
Kirandra turned her attention back to Shy, with a fierce gaze. “Why did you do it?”
Shy immediately sensed that she was in trouble. “Lew said I could!”
“Ok,” said Kirandra quietly. “Get in the passenger’s seat.” Kirandra followed her in and took the wheel. Cutler and I pushed the car backwards and after a bit of trial and error, we got the car turned around and back up the street. A minute or so after that, we had it back in the driveway, although facing the other way from before. Kirandra put on the emergency brake, Cutler flexed his muscles, and I just laughed.
Lew was standing on the front porch, his face ashy-white. Kirandra was marching Shy up the steps when her gaze met his. “I thought they would keep it in the driveway.” Kirandra looked at him, pushed Shy inside and a few minutes later, returned.
“How long?” asked Cutler. Kirandra seemed to snap out of her worried look and said, surprised, “How long what?”
“Cutler thinks Shy will be grounded for two weeks. I thought one month,” I offered, with a smile.
She held up a hand with four fingers outstretched. “Four months?” asked Cutler, shocked.
Kirandra bopped him on the head. “Four weeks, geek-boy.”
“Cool,” I said, and then added quickly, “Well not for her, I mean.”
Cutler replied, “Ok then, almost-goth girl.”
We eventually got back around to what we were talking about before. “So what is there to do here?” I asked.
“There’s a few lakes for fishing, bowling, a movie theatre –” begun Kirandra.
“Most places you can get to on your bike,” said Cutler, “but some places, like the rock formations are pretty far. We also have RPGS,” said Cutler. “You know, role-playing games.” He wriggled his eyebrows mysteriously.
“I know. Brian back home plays a few.”
“Then there’s the Apple festival in Cranston, the next town over. That’s the end of the month,” said Kirandra.
I thought about everything they said. The rock formations sounded pretty interesting, but too far away for now. I wanted to see what was nearby first. “I’ve never been fishing,” I said.
“You’re not even that good of a fisherman,” replied Cutler. She hit him again.
“Anyways, what do you know about LARPing?” Cutler asked me.
“Well, not much besides what it stands for,” I said.
“Impressive!” he said. “You want to do some? We’ve got a regular thing going.”
“When is it?”
“After lunch, Wednesday.”
“What about your uncle?” asked Kirandra.
“I’m going to get some time off,” I replied.
Kirandra looked at me sympathetically. Cutler rolled his eyes. I knew he thought my uncle was way too strict. I didn’t feel that he was, but maybe he was compared to Cutler’s folks.
If today was any sign, the week ahead would be interesting. I was looking forward to it, even if doing so meant being part of something that wouldn’t last.
